I Don't Speak
by nuddles
Summary: Tight-lipped, Close-mouthed. Popular Lance Mcclain temporarily pauses his cool-boy attitude in order to gain the trust of a mute boy. What Lance doesn't know is the tragedy behind the sad eyes and closed lips. - I did not create Voltron, Dreamworks did. All rights go to them.
1. Chapter 1

"Hello, there, ladies." Lance leaned closer to the two girls. One of them could not hold her giggle.

His ears could pick up another girl, down the hallway, gushing, "Oooh, that Lance Mcclain. Isn't he just handsome?"

Holding down his blush, he teased the two ladies a bit more.

"Lance, let's go," Hunk urged, looking at the clock that hung in the middle of the hallway. It was late after school ended and Lance was still flirting with some leftover girls.

"You know, every time I see him do that, I have the urge to barf just a little bit more," Pidge said to Hunk.

Hunk dragged Lance away.

"Aw man, it's raining!" Lance complained as the trio stepped outside. Hunk pulled out a small umbrella. Pidge happily went under the umbrella's refuge.

"Looks like there's no more room." Pidge teased.

"Psh, whatever, I don't need an umbrella anyway," Lance shot back, pulling on his hoodie.

The group soon split up. Lance sighed and stopped at his city's local park.

For Lance, there was always a warm feeling with the rain. A feeling in which all you want to do is sit outside and watch the rain fall to your lap. On days like these, Lance would usually bring out his headphones, put his backpack next to him, and quietly contemplate nothing on the bench.

Sometimes he would think about the unrealistic amount of homework he had sitting next to him. Other times he made plans in his mind to stop by the bakery, where a friend of his worked at.

Lance's phone had a plethora of 80's music that he failed at hiding from Hunk and Pidge. Lance probably gained his obsession for retro music from his parents, who were die-hard music lovers. On his playlist, Lance had songs like _Beat it, September_ , and _Don't Stop Me Now._

However, today was an exception.

Because, today, there was another boy sitting on Lance's bench.

The teenager seemed upset, or maybe that was just his stone-cold face and his crossed arms.

Lance hypocritically found it strange that somebody would just sit in the rain, doing nothing.

Sitting down, Lance smirked. "Hey there," he said with as much coolness he could muster.

The boy ignored him and scooched to the edge of the bench.

It began pouring to the point where Lance was going to get drenched if he stayed out too long. Still, Lance breathed and softly looked at the people rushing to shelter from the rain.

He wondered if the stranger next to him was doing the same thing. Lance risked a peek. The boy, dressed in a vibrant-red unzipped jacket, seemed to be staring off into the distance. His eyes were the kind of eyes that you could dive into, the pair where it seemed to lock you into this deep ocean of darkness.

The boy's hair was already soaked with rain water, and Lance wondered why the boy didn't just put on his hoodie.

The situation was already awkward as hell, but Lance didn't want to leave and make the person next to him feel bad. So, instead, he pulled out his phone and started scrolling through the millions of notifications he received from his classmates.

"Wanna go to the coffee shop nearby? Heard they brought back that mint-chocolate coffee."

 _Ew,_ Lance thought to himself, _Who even likes mint-chocolate coffee?_

And then there were some texts asking him for favors.

"Yo can I copy your homework for physics tmr?"

"Mcclain, can u give me Jessica's #"

Lance had the numbers to most of the student population, even though many of those people were sort-of jerks. Still, Lance enjoyed the attention, sort of.

Now he was getting annoyed. Was the boy beside him purposely ignoring Lance? Or was he too deep in thought to pay attention to him?

Lance spoke up. "So, uh, come here often?"

Lance's words taunted him. _"Come here often?"_ His mind mocked. Yeah, sure. What's next, cool-boy? Jazz hands?

It irritated Lance when the boy didn't reply.

After a few moments, Lance got up, slung his backpack over his shoulder, and told the boy with a straight face, "you should probably go home if you have one."

 _IF YOU HAVE ONE_. You're pretty good at this, Lance.

Lance could barely even see his route home. He looked back and saw the boy's face looking curiously at him.

Something in his eyes told Lance that he didn't want to go home.

Still, Lance looked away and walked off.


	2. Chapter 2

"Okay, a quick recap: red jacket, mullet hair, dark eyes, about your height?" Shiro said, totaling Lance's order. Shiro was a baker at a bakery nearby. Shiro probably knew everyone in the city, the bakery was infamous for its delicious croissants and pastries.

Lance nodded.

Shiro handed him the box that contained Lance's usual three strawberry donuts. His eyebrows were furrowed. They suddenly popped up.

"I think I do remember him! I've only seen him once, and it was a strange meeting..."

"What do you mean?" Lance questioned, leaning closer to the counter.

"A few months back, I was closing up shop, and this kid was right outside the bakery. I told him we were closed, but he just wouldn't leave. In the end, I let him in and he bought some cookies. He handed me a twenty, which I assumed was all he had."

"Weren't you worried about him?"

"Of course I was, it was almost the middle of the night. But he wouldn't speak up, and I just let him go. It's good to know he's still around, but I'm worried he might be going through financial problems..."

Lance tried to remember the event that occurred a couple of days back. The boy's clothes weren't necessarily tattered and cheap, they just seemed worn and tired. He wasn't muscular like Shiro, but he wasn't completely scrawny either. In fact, nothing really stood out about him except his red jacket, his mullet hair, and... of course, the sad eyes.

"Let me know if you see him again!" Shiro called as Lance was leaving. Lance waved back, unsure if he would ever stumble upon such a sight again.

Lance quickly walked around the park, checking if that mysterious boy was there. He failed.

He was sitting there. In the middle of the field that was filled with lush flowers. Flowers? In fall? He looked over, and he seemed to be at peace. his red jacket was placed next to him.

"What's your name?" Lance croaked out. It was hard talking. In fact, it was hard to move at all. He seemed to be stuck in this standing position, looking down at the boy.

He smiled, then shook his head. Suddenly all the shadows seemed to rise from the ground. They lifted up and took the forms of wispy figures made from dusty smoke. They began to beat and swirl around the boy on the ground. Lance attempted to brush them away, but nothing helped. Like a hive of bees, they buzzed like the static of a television, louder and louder. Sooner or later, they flew away and there was nothing left but a single, red jacket.

Lance shot up. A sliver of sweat dribbled down his forehead.

His chance was gone. Lance could've pulled him out of whatever route that boy was going down. What if he playing with death?

A deep bitterness sunk into his heart, and Lance did nothing but shift through his phone the rest of the night.


	3. Chapter 3

Out of all the places, Lance never expected to find him again in the boy's bathroom. But there he was, hastily washing his face with the tap water from the sink. What was this, some tragic drama? Lance wondered.

The boy had taken off his red jacket, and all that was exposed was a dark-grey shirt that tightly clung onto his body.

Lance slid to the sink next to the boy. "It's me again," he smiled, lowering one of his eyebrows in a cheesy fashion and leaning against the sink.

The boy, displaying more emotion this time, rolled his eyes before drying his face off with a paper towel. Lance mentally scoffed. Lance Mcclain, the most notorious boy in the school, failing to make someone blush or grin? Impossible.

The boy opened the door, but Lance got up just as he was about to leave. "Wait, wait, wait!" Lance called. "Did I piss you off or something? Who are you?" Lance held his breath.

The boy looked back, opened his mouth as if to say something, but then left in a hurry.

"Hey, Sad Eyes, wait!" Lance exclaimed. It was too late, he was gone again. At least Lance knew now that he was a student at this school.

"Oh, Keith? The boy that doesn't talk? He's in my English class. Why do you ask?" Pidge questioned.

"What do you mean he doesn't talk?" Lance responded, naturally furrowing his brows.

Pidge shrugged. "The teacher doesn't call on him, at least. Maybe he has issues, I dunno."

Hunk watched as Lance had a stare down with his food. "Lance, you have to eat something." Lance pushed his plate away, groaning and resting head on the lunch table. Something about Sad Eyes made him feel uneasy. Lance had never met anybody look so tired, other than Pidge when she pulled two all-nighters in a row. No, Sad Eyes had a different kind of a tired. The kind of tired that felt like everything was being built up inside of you for a long, long time.

"Lance, Hello? Earth to Lance?" Hunk waved his hand in front of Lance's face.

"Hm? Oh, yeah."

"Like I was saying," Hunk said, "why are you so interested in Keith? It doesn't seem like he wants to be bothered." Lance sighed, and poked at his food some more.

"I don't know. Don't you get some feeling that something's wrong with him?"

"Maybe he's mute." Pidge added.

"No, I mean something's happening to him. Shouldn't we be more worried?"

Pidge scoffed. "I think the only person we should be worried about is you. Where did your nonchalant personality go?"

The chime of the bells rung as Lance entered the bakery. Shiro, at the counter, smiled at Lance and then darted his eyes towards the customer in front of him.

It was the infamous mullet. Sad Eyes was in the bakery.

Lance picked out a box filled with six pieces of banana bread and walked up to the front.

"I'm sorry, but you're a dollar short…" Shiro said grimly. The boy put his hands to his pockets in search for money.

Lance swiftly took out his wallet and tapped the boy on his shoulder. "I think you dropped this on the floor." He tried hiding his smug grin. Shiro watched Lance hand the dollar bill to the boy, blank-faced.

Sad Eyes handed the dollar bill to Shiro.

When the boy left, Shiro let out a sigh. "What was the point in doing that, Lance?" Shiro looked outside, and his eyes widened with curiosity. "He's waiting for you, I'm guessing."

Lance turned around.

He was.


	4. Chapter 4

He handed Lance a piece of bread, despite the box Lance had brought earlier. It appeared to be a sort of offering, an apology for what Lance did earlier.

Lance, a true gentleman, politely declined the offer. "You might need it."

The boy, Keith, as Pidge called him, stared blankly at Lance. It was unnerving.

Unlike the day Lance first met him, today was a cloudless day. It was easy to tell it was six o'clock as the sun was close to setting. Why it was this day that the boy chose to enter the bakery, Lance had no idea.

"You can't talk, can you, "Lance said in a low voice.

There was no reply. Maybe he was actually just a weirdo.

Lance noticed that there was a supposed bruise on Keith's knee. It was a thriving purple. The same sense of uneasiness washed over Lance. It appeared to be two or three inches wide. How was the boy walking so perfectly? was he trying to maintain a sense of strength to Lance?

Lance checked the time. He had somewhere to be at six-thirty. "Say, you should go back home and rest your bruise," Lance said. The boy stopped, almost surprised by what Lance said.

"The park's nice and all, but it's not healthy for you to be walking around with an injury, even a minor one." Lance was the uncle of many, many kids. Many of whom got into minor accidents that resulted in cuts or bruises. He was taught the home remedy for every minor pain or accident. Honey and tea for sore throats. A warm water bottle for stomach-aches. Lance could probably find a couple of old bandaids in his backpack if he looked hard enough.

"You'll need an ice pack to reduce swelling, first. If there's pain, take Tylenol or something. Prop your leg on a stool or pillow. You could wrap one of those bandages around your leg, if you want," Lance recited, remembering the time his mother fixed Lance up after some form of accident.

Lance was too afraid to look at the Sad-Eyes, knowing the answer he would receive.

"You... don't have those things, do you." Lance checked his phone. "I don't know who you are, but I don't like seeing people in pain. Why don't you come over? I'll give you an ice pack. My home isn't far away, either."

The boy, surprisingly, nodded.

"Sweet," said Lance.

The walk over to Lance's apartment was inevitably an awkward one. Or perhaps, it was only awkward to Lance, who was not used to such silence.

Lance wanted to ask about Keith's home, and his family, but he knew he wouldn't receive an answer. So instead, he held the door out for the boy.

Lance's apartment wouldn't be deemed small, it was more of crowded. The apartment building was filled with large families. It hard to fall asleep most nights, as there were way too many kids residing in the apartment.

Lance lived on the fourth floor. And though he usually took the stairs, today was an exception.

The two entered the small elevator that was plastered with ads and warning labels.

He twisted the key. The door clicked and swung open.

"This is my apartment," Lance made a gesture. "You can wait in the living room while I go grab the ice pack and bandages."

Lance fumbled around the kitchen, in search of the first aid kit his mother always had lying around somewhere. Lance also found the ice pack on the top shelf of the fridge. Failing to retrieve the bandage, he went back to the living room. He caught Keith looking at some of the family pictures. Lance went up behind him.

"Yeah, those are my parents. And there's my siblings. And then there's me in the middle. I'm the youngest one," Lance pointed out. The photo was probably taken around five or six years ago when the family had a big picnic outside. It was that one family picture every house had, the one where everyone was present and there were no fake smiles. Lance peeked at Keith. He had a soft, mellow face.

Lance handed the ice package to Keith. "Here. Take it home with you. You can bring it back tomorrow, during school."


	5. Chapter 5

Well, this was awkward. Keith was still standing, holding the ice pack, and Lance didn't want to be rude and ask him to leave. Especially because he still didn't understand the situation, and he didn't know if Keith could even explain it to him.

"Uh, did you bring your homework? I know we have that English test coming up, so do you want to go over it?"

The test was on the well-known book "To Kill a Mockingbird" and Lance had barely read it himself. When he tried to read the book, he immediately lost interest and gave up. Keith nodded and Lance beckoned Keith to follow him to his room. Luckily, Lance's parents were out working and his siblings were probably at their friend's house.

Keith's eyes curiously wandered around Lance's bedroom, gazing at all the clothes and old paper slung around. It wasn't the prettiest sight, but it was easy to see that it was Lance's room. It was decorated with tons of posters from old bands and singers, and there was even an acoustic guitar propping itself up by a wall.

Lance opened the window shutters. Light spilled through and Lance set his backpack down next to his bed. He pulled out a copy of "To Kill a Mockingbird" and flipped it open to the first page.

"You do a copy, right?"

Keith shook his head.

Lance sighed. "Okay, well, have you read the book?"

Nope. Lance realized that he was probably more prepared for the test than Keith was.

"Well, that's fine, because I haven't either. I guess I'll just read allowed if you want." Lance eyed Keith, who was still awkwardly standing. "You know, you can just sit on the chair. It's fine, really."

What's up with this guy? Does he know basic human sense?

Lance cleared his throat and began reading. "Chapter one. When he was nearly thirteen, my brother Jem got his arm badly broken at the elbow. When it healed…"

Lance's voice grew weary as the chapter processed, but he saw Keith's interested face and decided to continue on. Lance barely understood what was going on himself, but perhaps that was mainly because he was focusing on reading out loud the chapter. He didn't even realize that he was using different voices for all the characters until he was halfway through. Embarrassed, he tried paying more attention to the story at hand.

Lance noticed Keith's head turn and realized it began raining.

"Crap, you still need to get home, right?"

Keith bit his lip and nodded.


End file.
